


Home Is Becoming A Killing Field

by jovishark



Category: South Park
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Blood and Gore, Gen, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-03
Updated: 2015-08-03
Packaged: 2018-04-12 20:38:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4493904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jovishark/pseuds/jovishark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Is there someone out there?? Please!"<br/>"Don't." Kenny stops Butters from moving in on the door.<br/>"Why not? It could be-"<br/>"We don't know what it could be." </p><p>A series of short happenings during a South Park-styled zombie apocalypse. Plot is up to interpretation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Less Than Humble Beginnings

**Author's Note:**

> titles inspired by 'reapers' by muse cause honestly the whole drones album was inspiration for this nightmare  
> some bits from the zombie au reposted from tumblr  
> thanks to perkeling for makin me think about this again and thanks to sekritomg for giving me somewhere else to post it!
> 
> (theres gonna be some lowkey bunny and lowkey cryde but not really big enough to be tagged? also some serious warnings in some of the later chapters alright  
> [kevin hart voice] its about to go down)

Once again, another national emergency has driven South Park into a frenzy. Although, this time, it was much bigger than cartoons or gluten. This time, a jet had gone down on the border of Wyoming and Colorado, releasing a string of experimental bacteria with it. Reports confirmed the bacteria was capable of reanimating dead flesh, and was to be avoided at all costs. Towns across the Midwest were already being evacuated, along with South Park. Of course, by 'evacuation', that meant everybody had just been moved into the community center with everything they could carry on their backs.  
Assigned emergency correspondents were busy trying to hook up television sets and radios, in hopes of hearing more updates on the outbreak. Most civilians were doing their best to board up windows and doors, while others set up tents and cots on the linoleum floor. Randy Marsh, local geologist, estimated the bacteria had already gotten in through the supple Colorado soil, and was raising the first wave of undead as they spoke. Also, that there wasn't much time left to prepare, and that somebody should get him a beer.  
Put in charge of 'sitting aside and out of the way for a while', Stan, Kyle, Kenny, and Cartman sat near each other on a pile of emergency blankets. Apparently, seventeen years old wasn't deemed old enough for the "grown ups are busy" excuse to wear off.  
"This blows," Cartman sighs, leaning back on his hands. "The fuckin' zombie apocalypse is going on out there, and where are we? Stuck inside a lame refugee camp like a bunch of war prisoners."  
"Shut up, dude," Kyle narrows his eyes. "It's safer this way."  
"Who gives two shits about safety? I say, we go out there and kick some zombie ass."  
"I give two shits about safety! We're not going anywhere."  
"Guys, come on." Stan eyes them both wearily. "This is stressful enough. We don't have to argue."  
"Because there's nothing to argue. We're gonna go kill all the zombies and be awesome heroes. Enough said." Cartman nods.  
"How do you expect to kill ALL of the zombies? You'll probably get close enough to one to get bitten, Fatass." Kyle sneers.  
"Whatever! I'm a way better zombie killer than you, Kyle!"  
"You have no supporting evidence for that claim, Tubby!"  
"Excuse us, boys," The debate is interrupted by the approach of Stephen Stotch, his sobbing wife under his arm. "Have you seen Butters around? We can't seem to find him..."  
"No? Didn't he come in with you guys?" Kenny raises an eyebrow, fairly concerned.  
"I don't think so. I'm not sure." Stephen pauses, and Linda takes in a deep breath.  
"Oh, Stephen! Butters was grounded last night! I think we left him at the house!" She sobs into her tissue, and he pats her back.  
"There, there, darling. I'm sure he'll find his way here." Butters' parents wander off, leaving the other four boys to stare back at each other suspiciously.  
"Well." Cartman grunts, standing up from the pile. "That sounds like a call to action if I've ever heard one."  
"I think he's right." Kenny admits. "We should go find Butters. I'm sure nobody else here will."  
"Guys, this is suicide." Kyle stands, hands on his hips. "It's a fucking zombie outbreak out there! You won't survive five minutes!"  
"Oh, really?" Cartman raises a pensive eyebrow. "Would you care to wager on that?"  
"No."  
"Because you're afraid you'll lose?"  
"No, because every other bet we've made ended in you being a disgusting piece of manipulative garbage."  
"Whatever. You just know I'm right."  
"I hate you."  
"Alright, let's grab some gear and head out." Kenny starts away from the group, Cartman following in tow, humming something about Kyle always being wrong. Kyle takes a very, very deep breath and tries not to succumb to the homicidal rage currently building.  
"Whatever. Are you coming, Stan?" Kyle looks back toward his friend, who is standing passively behind him.  
"Yeah, I mean. As long as we get to see Cartman eaten by zombies, it'll be worth it." Stan laughs, and Kyle smiles back at him. They fist bump, briefly, then continue with the others to find adequate gear and weapons. 

After a bit of searching around under the radar, the boys manage to find a pistol, and three baseball bats. The two wooden ones go to Kenny and Kyle, who attempt to work jagged nails in through the sides. Kyle passes the aluminum bat over to Stan, who looks it over strangely.  
"Why do I get the metal bat?" He asks, watching Kyle bend nails with a large rock against his own bat.  
"Well, when we all used to play baseball, you pitched. The aluminum bat would probably do more damage than a wooden one, so in your hands, it evens out against ours." Kyle explains, not looking up from his work.  
"Plus, you're hella ripped, dude. And that one's heavier than these two." Kenny adds, pointedly. Stan nods, agreeably.  
"Hey fags, check it out." Cartman calls over, and the three others almost don't look up from their conversation. Stan backs up considerably, while Kyle and Kenny stare incredulously at the shotgun in Cartman's hands.  
"Dude, where in the shit did you get a shotgun??" Kenny looks it over, puzzled.  
"This is a backwater redneck town on the verge of the apocalypse. Where WOULDN'T I get a shotgun?" Cartman grins. Kenny shrugs, yeah, that sounds about right.  
"Whatever. If we're gonna get going, we should go before anyone really notices us." Stan tries hard to avoid the gun, remembering shortly how his father dealt with Sparky's cancer diagnosis three years prior.  
"We should at least warn our parents that we're leaving, shouldn't we?" Kyle ponders, chasing after the three who've already started for the back door.  
"What's the matter, Kyle? Afraid your mommy's gonna know and bitch us out for it?" Cartman teases, recieving a hard punch to the stomach.  
"Let's go." Kyle shoulders his bat, stepping over Cartman, doubled over on the floor. Stan and Kenny follow, the door swinging shut behind them.


	2. All Buttered Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is what i meant by 'theres some lowkey bunny involved' bc damn these nerds are cute

Setting out across South Park during an apocalypse actually proved to be easier than suspected. Because the town was relatively small, and most everyone had been placed in the community center before any infection could take place, there weren't very many of the undead left scattered along the roads. There was the occasional incident of a recently deceased pet or some roadkill jumping up in attack, but with baseball bats, they were easy to beat down.  
The first stop seemed to be Butters' house, although upon arrival, could have been the reason why the streets were mostly deserted. The front door had been collapsed inward, and thick blood was smeared over the front of the house under scratch marks and hand prints. The four boys exchanged worried looks; it could have very well been too late.  
"Come on," Kenny steps forward first. "We have to at least check."  
"Just don't get your hopes up, Kenny." Kyle shakes his head, but goes in after him. Stan and Cartman arrive after, checking out the disaster that is the living room.  
Most of the furniture has been shifted, while blood and discarded limbs litter the shag carpet. The lamp in the corner was still turned on, but lays toppled over in the midst of some sort of struggle. It illuminates the rest of the room in a very uncomfortable way. 

The undead neighbors, most of which have already made their way up the stairs, turn at the disturbance. Some wobble back down the stairs to engage the four boys.  
"No, I am not getting eaten today," Cartman murmurs, and cocks the shotgun before firing into the crowd. Kyle and Stan whack at some of the stragglers from the gunfire, while Kenny attempts to fight his way upstairs.  
The horde is even more dense the further up he goes, and Kenny finds himself nearly consumed by stumbling corpses. A shotgun blast knocks one of them away, and Cartman rushes past to continue to clear the hallway. Within minutes, the boys have bashed in every available head, leaving a clear space to Butters' bedroom door.  
"Moment of truth." Cartman says, reaching for the doorknob. It barely turns, and he tugs at it again. No avail. "What the hell? This thing is stuck!"  
"They said Butters was grounded, right? His parents probably locked the door." Kyle points out, and Cartman sighs.  
"I think they changed the locks last time, so my key might not work..."  
"What?"  
"Nothing."  
"We don't need a key." Stan nudges Cartman aside, and all three of them back up to allow him some space. Stan stands a few feet away, takes a deep breath, and raises a heavy boot to the door. He kicks at it once, twice, and after a third time the knob splinters off. The door crumbles from its hinges, and another firm push leaves it in a pile on the floor.  
"Jesus, Stan," Kyle breathes. "Where did you learn to do THAT?"  
"The TV was stuck on some firefighting documentary last week. I dunno, it looked cool when they did it." He shrugs, while Kenny rushes into the bedroom.  
"It still looked cool when you did it." Kyle laughs.  
"It did?"  
"Hell yeah, dude."  
"Guys!" Kenny calls, and the other three step in the doorway.  
"Please, please don't eat me!" Butters cries, cowering in the empty space beneath his desk. His arms are held above his head, shielding his eyes from the impending terror. Kenny crouches down in front of the desk, cautious.  
"Butters, hey." He says, gently. "It's us."  
Butters splits open one eye, then the other, and lights up before crawling out from under the desk. He falls into Kenny's arms, hugging onto him.  
"Oh, Ken! I was so scared!" He cries, enveloped quickly in muscular arms. "They were scratchin' at the door, I didn't know what to do!"  
"It's okay, dude, we're here." Kenny laughs, and Butters giggles into the neck of his t-shirt.  
"If you're done being a knight in sequined armor, Kenny," Cartman rolls his eyes. "I'd like to get going?"  
"What do you think, Butters? Do you want us to take you to the rec center, or do you wanna come with us?" Kenny asks.  
"Geez, fellas, I don't know. Where are you going?" Butters raises an eyebrow.  
"On a kickass zombie killing spree." Cartman fake karate-chops the air.  
"Wrong. We're looking for more survivors." Kyle sighs.  
"What? Since when?"  
"Since now. Who knows how many more kids didn't make it to the rec center?"  
"Who cares?? This isn't about them, Kyle!"  
"Then we're making it about them!"  
"Well," Butters interrupts, pointedly. "In that case, I wanna go along. I'd love to help in any way I can."  
"Alright," Kenny stands up, helping Butters to his feet. "You can help us with any bandaging and first aid stuff. That sound good?"  
"Sounds great!" Butters gives him a broad grin, and they move to leave the room. Everyone heads downstairs, and Kenny urges Butters to keep his eyes closed while he's led down into the living room. The less carnage he sees, the better.

As soon as all five of them are safe in the front yard, Cartman goes to reload his shotgun. They have to come up with a new plan to find more of their friends.  
"So, who's next?" Stan suggests. "Was there anyone else we didn't see at the center?"  
Kyle's opens his mouth to respond, and is stopped by a round of gunshots. Screaming and yelling filter through the early afternoon air, and the boys all look around the neighborhood for the source. A vague 'god help us!' comes through the noise.  
"Was that... Clyde?"


	3. A Tucker Family Vacation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am very sorry  
> i am so very sorry

Sprinting down the open streets, Stan, Kyle, and Kenny search for the source of the noise. Gunshots, screaming, the telltale signs of struggle. Hopefully, there would be a commotion that gave away the position of the victims. Cartman straggles back from the group, heaving, while Butters is content to walk alongside him and carry the first aid kit.  
"Here, over here!" Stan calls, pointing in the direction of Craig's house. It appears relatively safe from the outside, the light brown exterior hardly touched by blood or entrails. Another gunshot cracks through the air, light exploding from the far right bedroom window. Something was definitely amiss.   
"Come on, it sounds like someone's still alive in there." Kyle says, rushing up to the house. The front door is already wide open, and when he and Stan step in, the living room shows every sign of struggle.   
Bullet holes in the walls, the television face-down in the carpet, the couch moved a good three feet from where it usually sits. Blood is splattered in every which direction, some of it still seeming fresh and dripping down. Stan keeps his eyes forward to the stairs, and he and Kyle continue on. Cartman has finally made it to the door, and he and Kenny storm in brandishing weapons, while Butters waits out in the front yard for safety.  
Craig's house appears to be an all-out warzone, blood painted up the walls even in the upstairs hallway. Several corpses lay secondly-dead in the middle of the walkway, one of which appears strikingly familiar.   
"Dude," Kyle stops for a second, tugging Stan back by a sleeve. "Is it just me, or is that Craig's dad?"  
Stan braves a look down, and holy shit. That is without a doubt Thomas Tucker. Except, so pale he's almost green, and with a chest loaded full of bullet holes. It takes a tremendous amount of effort for Stan not to turn around and puke. 

Another screech captures their attention, and with Kenny and Cartman now in tow, the boys continue forward. They step over what certainly appears to be Laura Tucker, although her face is somewhat disfigured from all of the gunshot wounds. The hallway seems to extend forever, until they come across the last, but not least, of the bodies. Little Ruby Tucker, her face pale and coated in blood, with a single shot to the forehead. Kenny shakes his head, and Stan has to force himself to look away. Their progress stops when they hear voices from inside the last door to the right.  
"Dude, come on! We have to go find help!"   
"If I could walk on it, do you think I would be on the floor."  
"Well, no. But-"  
"Wait, shut up. I heard something."  
Kenny, closest to the door, gives them a panicked look. Silence stretches between them and the door for what seems like only minutes, before a cautious set of steps approaches the doorway from the inside.  
"...Hello? Is something out there?"  
"Don't be a fucking pussy, Clyde, just shoot it."  
"Wait! Don't shoot!" Kenny says, holding his hands up in defense and leaping in front of the doorway. The scene in the door is one Kenny never expected he would have to see.  
Clyde stands there aiming a rifle - very poorly - forward, with tear tracks down his cheeks. He's trembling, very understandably, standing on wobbling knees. The carpet all around the area is soaked through with blood, all leaving a trail back to Craig. He's sitting propped up against the side of the bed, staring at the door like a caged animal. His left pant leg is rolled up, revealing a terribly large gash that's being haphazardly contained by an old t-shirt and a makeshift tourniquet.   
"Oh my God," Clyde gasps, dropping the rifle and rushing forward to Kenny. "You have to help us. Please!"  
"Dude, calm down." Kenny pulls Clyde's hand from his shirt, and the other three boys come forward to the scene. "It'll be alright. What went down, here?"  
"Oh, Jesus Christ." Craig spits, still holding his leg. "You brought the whole fucking neighborhood in to watch me die. How thoughtful."  
"You're not dying!" Clyde whirls around, pointing accusingly at Craig. "Not if I can help it!"  
"Way to survive the apocalypse, Craig." Cartman pushes past Kenny into the room, slow-clapping with a wide patronizing grin. "Seriously, way to go."  
"Will you shut your fat mouth??" Kyle shoves his way in, glaring Cartman down. "This is serious!"  
"Dude, Clyde," Stan stands safely in the doorway, attempting to stay far away from the blood. "What happened?"  
"Craig's parents turned, and he was bitten! Some kind of zombie shit's going down out there!" Clyde cries, watching Kenny try to tend to Craig's leg. Craig keeps slapping his hands away, yelling in protest.   
"It's fine. My family is dead and everything is fine." Craig says, keeping Kenny at bay. "It's every boy's childhood dream to shoot his mom in the face."  
"I don't think that's right," Kenny shakes his head, and dives in again to stop the bleeding. "And will you just let me help you, dude??"  
"Fuck off."

"Kenny, listen to him. Knock it off." Cartman commands from the side of the room. Suddenly, five sets of eyes are all on him, staring harshly.  
"What?" Kenny and Clyde say, at the same time.  
"I said, stop. We have to stop the process before it goes any deeper."   
"Cartman. Don't you dare even say what I know you're gonna say." Kyle warns.  
"He's infected."  
"God DAMN it!"  
"This is inevitable, Kyle!" Cartman shouts. "I'm so seriously. If we don't take care of this, Craig's gonna turn on us like his family did on him."  
"That's a gigantic load of bullshit and you know it, Cartman!"   
"Craig was bitten by a zombie! That means the virus has already spread to his bloodstream, and if we don't kill that son of a bitch now, he's just gonna kill us all later!"  
"No, you can't!" Clyde collapses down onto the floor, tears flowing thick down his cheeks. He grasps hard at the collar of Craig's sweatshirt, sniveling into his shoulder. If Craig rolled his eyes any harder, they would have fallen out. "You can't kill him! Craig's my best friend!"  
"God, will you get over it, already?" Craig says, sounding more scared than Clyde does.  
Cartman seems to concede for a second, stopping to think. Kenny's gone back to attempting to control Craig's leg, and Stan still has his eyes directed toward the ceiling. Craig isn't fighting back with as much intensity anymore.  
"Alright, fine." Cartman says. "We won't kill Craig."  
He removes the pistol they'd obtained from his front sweatshirt pocket, turns off the safety setting, and tosses it on the floor. He kicks it across the carpet to just a few inches away from Craig. Craig looks up at him with wide eyes.  
"But now, he has the opportunity to do it himself."  
"No! None of that, either!" Kyle yells, fists thrown down to his sides. "This is fucking insane! We're going to get Craig down to the rec center, and we're going to get him help!"  
"Yeah, dude. This is really inhumane." Stan offers from the doorway.   
"Stan, you don't get it." Cartman takes a deep breath. "The virus spreads fast. Craig's probably already turning as we speak. By the time we get him there, it will have been too late."   
Stan and Kyle don't say anything for a few seconds. Stan seems to consider this, while Kyle merely seethes with rage. Clyde is still sobbing, hard, into Craig's shoulder. Craig has an arm around his back, but says nothing else.  
"Look at it this way. If a dog has an incurable, infectious disease that you KNOW is causing it harm, would you force it to keep living, even though it's in pain?" Cartman gives Stan a very intentional look. "Or would you put it out of its misery?"  
"Cartman." Kyle grinds out. "Craig isn't a dog."  
"It's the same principle!"   
"It really isn't!!"   
A particularly loud cry from Clyde interrupts their predictable bickering, and he shoves his face further into Craig's chest. Craig sighs, very frustrated.  
"Clyde, please." He says, hoarsely. "Just. Stop this. Please."  
"I can't lose you! I can't!" Clyde sobs, almost unintelligible through the tears. "You're my best friend!" Clyde's thick arms move to hug Craig around the neck, while Craig weakly attempts to push him away.   
"I know, just. Okay?" Craig swallows, hard, finally able to push Clyde far enough away to look him in the eye. "It'll be okay. It's fine. Alright?" Clyde sniffles wetly, wiping at his cheek with the back of his hand. The other four stare on in bewilderment.  
"Alright..."  
"Don't worry about me. Don't you fucking dare, Clyde. I'll haunt you for the rest of your life." Craig takes one of Clyde's hands from his shoulder and gently shoves it away. Clyde laughs, sort of, and is reminded again of the grave circumstances.   
"I bet you won't."  
"I bet I will."  
Almost suddenly, Clyde begins to cry again, softer this time. Craig gives Kenny a look, and he comes forward to pull Clyde back off of Craig. Stan comes in to help out, and together, he and Kenny manage to wrench Clyde up off of the floor.  
"Alright, finally, let's get this over with." Cartman rolls his eyes.  
"NO!" Clyde cries, trying hard to work his way forward. Stan and Kenny hold him back, almost dragging him toward the door. "You can't! Please!!"   
Craig gives Clyde one last fleeting look, and reaches down to pick up the handgun. Clyde screams, for them to put him down, for Craig not to do it, for anyone to stop this. He tries to grasp for the wall, tries to shove his heels into the floor, begs and pleads for them to put him down. His cries get faint as they carry him through the hallway, and finally, they stop.   
"God damn, what a drama queen." Cartman shakes his head. "Alright, you ready, man?"  
"Cartman. This is. This is just." Kyle's staring down at Craig, eyes on the gun. "This is fucking absurd."  
"I'm sorry, Kyle. That's the way this stuff works out." Cartman shrugs. "It's an apocalypse. If we don't stop Craig now, he'll come back and eat all the people he loves."  
"As fucking sweet as that sounds," Craig says, wiping at his face. It probably wasn't tears. "I'm tired of this bullshit. I'm out."  
"Wise choice."  
Cartman crosses his arms behind his back, Kyle can only watch with unabashed horror as Craig raises the gun to his left temple. His eyes come up to meet theirs, and there's a look there they haven't seen before. Apologetic. Worried. Scared. Things all foreign to these eyes.   
"Tell Clyde," he opens his mouth to continue, and promptly closes it. Shakes his head. Looks down to the floor.   
Some things are better left unsaid. 

Clyde still struggles in Stan's grip, but only briefly before collapsing against him. He cries weakly into his hands, and Kenny tries hard to tune the sound out. Butters, having no wounds to attend to, stays by Clyde's side and strokes his hair every now and then.  
"It'll be okay, buddy. He'll be okay." Butters coos. Clyde takes a deep breath, seems to calm down. Wipes at his face. Runs a hand through his hair.  
A gunshot echoes through the air.   
Clyde cries out another sob, holding his face in his hands. Stan and Kenny close their eyes, look down to the ground. God damn it.  
Shortly after, Kyle and Cartman exit the house. Kyle moves to stand beside Stan in blank thought, eyes focused squarely on the grass. Cartman closes the front door gingerly behind them.


	4. Don't Get Your Hopes Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am also moderately sorry about this

A good three hours had passed since the town learned of new developments in the disease. Specifically, its ability to spread through the air to any recently deceased carcasses. Of course, had the five boys stayed at the rec center, they would have found this out the easy way. But much like their other adventures, they would see it through as difficultly as possible.  
The incident with Craig was traumatic, very traumatic. Clyde had seemed to calm down since then, and asked if he could continue with the group. Without Craig, there would be no reason to stay in the rec center. No real reason to keep himself safe anymore. Kyle and Stan know that's dramatic, and probably not true, but they let Clyde have his moment of grave remembrance. 

“There has to be someone we’re missing,” Kyle points out, as they continue down the road. “Who wasn’t there with everyone else?”  
“I think all of the girls were there,” Stan says, thinking back to the evacuated citizens. “And I saw Kevin and Scott.”  
“We definitely found Clyde and Craig.” Kenny remarks, gravely. A momentary silence cuts down the conversation.   
“What about Token, or Tweek?” Butters suggests. “Were they there with you fellas?”  
“Come to think of it, I’m not so sure.” Cartman pauses. “Token’s place would be too far from the rec center, same with Tweek. Maybe they didn’t make it.”  
“I’m sure they made it, right?” Stan looks to Kyle for answers. He looks contemplatively at the ground below them.   
“I’m… I think so? I actually don’t remember seeing them.”   
“Then they must still be in the neighborhood!” Clyde pipes up, tense, from the back. “We have to find them.”  
“Hold your damn horses, Clyde.” Cartman snaps. “We all know you’re butthurt about your dead boyfriend, but we don’t have time to-” He’s interrupted by a hearty smack to the arm, courtesy of Kyle.  
“Shut your fucking mouth, dude!” Kyle grits out. “He was your friend too, don’t act like you don’t care.”  
“Of course I care, Jew. I’m just too tough to show it.”  
“You’re not ‘tough’, asshole! You’re an egotistical sociopath!”   
“You say potato, I say po-tah-to.”  
“That doesn’t even-”  
“Hey!” Clyde shouts, effectively catching their attention. “You guys, it’s Craig! He’s not dead!”  
All five boys turn to view the source of the disturbance, and sure enough, Craig stands in the distance. He’s shambling down the road at a sluggish pace, dragging one leg slightly behind the other. The upper part of his right shoulder is stained a deep red. It sets a deep, deep discomfort in the pit of everyone’s stomach.   
“Clyde…” Kyle murmurs, as Craig comes closer into view. “He’s plenty dead, alright.”   
As Craig’s tall figure shudders further down the road, Clyde takes a large step back. An exit wound had burst through his right temple, blood showered across the shoulder of his jacket. Craig’s lifeless eyes stared forward and latched onto Clyde’s gaze, both boys locked in a one-sided staring contest.   
“Alright, boys. Let’s roast this bitch.” Cartman steps forward, cocking his shotgun. Stan stands back with a hand over his mouth, while Butters covers his eyes.   
“No!” Clyde cries, leaping in front of Craig with his arms out. “I won’t let you!”  
“Clyde. Shooting you both would be a waste of ammo and we both know it. But I have no problem mowing you down. Move it.”  
“He’s our friend! You can’t kill him!”   
“He’s clearly already dead. Just step aside before you both get your heads blown off.”  
“Stop being stupid, Fatass!” Kyle shoves down the muzzle of Cartman’s shotgun, glaring hard. “You’re not shooting Clyde!”  
“Then tell him to move!” Cartman gestures to Clyde with a large hand.  
“How about you-”  
A groan, a crunch, and a terrified screech all intercept another round of bickering. Clyde stands perfectly still while Craig’s crooked teeth settle further into the side of his neck. Solid silence fills the spaces between all seven of them like gelatin, thick and uncomfortable to move through.   
“Oh my God…” Kyle gasps. Clyde continues to stare through him.   
“Run.” Cartman nearly drops his gun in an effort to scramble away from the scene.  
“What?! But we can’t just-”  
“RUN, JEW!”   
Kenny and Butters promptly follow suit after Cartman. Stan makes a difficult noise, and turns to join them. Kyle looks back to Clyde one more time. His distressed sob sends sharp pangs of guilt through Kyle’s gut.   
Slowly, very slowly. He takes a step back to follow the other boys.


	5. Getting Tweeked Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here we go meetin more kids lets do this (at least the 'everyone dying' is takin a break for a bit (or is it))

Only another half hour later, and the sun was beginning to set over the remnants of South Park. The boys had not easily forgotten the unnecessary sacrifice that had just been made. An eerie pause had fallen over the last five survivors. All but Kyle, who not-so-quietly seethed with rage.  
“I can’t believe…” He begins, breaking the past thirty minutes of wordless remembrance. “I just. How. How did that just happen. How did we LET that happen.”  
“Kyle.” Stan rests a hand on his shoulder, almost warning, as if to say ‘don’t waste your energy on this, dude’. Kyle makes a strained noise.  
“Let it go. That’s how this thing works.” Cartman says, keeping his eyes forward. “Someone’s going to end up dead. It’s our job to make sure that isn’t us.”  
“We could have helped him!” Kyle yells, hoarsely. “We were close enough to the rec center, we could have taken Clyde in for help!”  
“Are you blind, or just stupid?” Cartman whips around to face Kyle. “Clyde was bitten on his neck! The disease would have spread even faster to his brain!”  
“So if we tried, we could have saved him!”  
“Nobody could have saved him!”  
“Hey.” Kenny takes a step inbetween Kyle and Cartman, holding both hands up protectively. “Let it go.”  
“Don’t you tell me to let it go!” Kyle swats one of his hands away, eyes on Cartman. “Our friends are dead, and it’s his fault!!”  
“My fault?!” Cartman snarls. “I did us a Goddamn favor!!”  
“The only FAVOR you could have done was getting bitten, instead of them!”  
“Kyle!” Stan cries, incredulously.  
“It’s true! We would be so much better off!”  
“Dude, I know you’re freaked out. But that’s just harsh.”  
“Kyle, please.” Butters says, hands held cautiously in front of him. “Don’t split us apart any more than we are. We can resolve this, right?”  
“Fine. I have a solution I think works best for all of us.” Cartman nods, and promptly points his shotgun toward Kyle. Kyle freezes, eyes alight with fury, while Stan stays fast behind him.  
“No, no.” Kenny steps in front of the business end of the gun, staring down at Cartman. “No. This is not happening. Nobody is getting shot.”  
“Yeah, not until I shoot Kyle.”  
“You are not doing that.”  
“Move it, Kenny. I’m not afraid to use this thing.”  
“Go ahead, then.” Kenny leans in, gaze solid. “Use it.”  
“I’m serious, Kenny! I’ll do it!” Cartman’s words don’t come out as sure as he would have liked.  
“Then do it. I dare you.”  
Butters has covered his mouth with his hands, unable to look away. Stan and Kyle watch from behind Kenny, petrified with anticipatory fear. Nobody moves for a good thirty seconds, until finally, Cartman makes a throaty noise and lowers the shotgun.  
“God damn it, Kenny.” He mutters, and turns away from the rest of the group.  
“No more fighting, you guys.” Kenny turns back to Stan and Kyle, who still watch him carefully. “We have to go see if Tweek and Token are still around.”  
A solemn nod signifies cooperation, and the peanut gallery is back on the road.  
They pass through multiple spots of the neighborhood, then up into town before they find the coffee shop. Last anyone remembered, Tweek was still working a shift before the sirens went off. Hopefully, he’d already been evacuated to the rec center. And if not, they prayed he’d stayed put and waited for help. Given the condition of the shop, though, that may not have been the best idea.  
Kenny holds out an arm to stop the other boys as soon as they round the corner. The glass in the windows is shattered on the pavement, and undead strangers continue to claw their way in. The stink of death drifts down the sidewalk, and Kenny narrows his eyes.  
“Uptown must have been the last place hit.” He says, and continues forward, brandishing a bat stuck with nails. Cartman follows suit, cocking the shotgun, while Stan, Kyle, and Butters make their way up from the back.  
“Let’s hope Tweek’s still alive,” Stan murmurs, and Kyle nods in agreement as both boys pull bandanas up in front of their faces.  
The crowd of rotting neighbors is quickly diminished, spreading dark blood up the walls and onto the floors. A few stragglers behind the counter are either shot down or bashed in, and the fighting four take a second to recover.  
“All clear,” Kenny calls to beyond the outside doors, as Butters carefully steps in over the remnants of dead strangers.  
“Ew,” He says, pulling back his leg when his shoe squelches into a torso. “This stuff is icky.”  
“You can say that again,” Kyle nods, noticing Stan shuddering beside him. “You alright, dude?”  
“I’m just.” Stan makes a face behind his bandanna, a gloved hand coming up quickly to cover his mouth. “God, I can’t believe this is real.”  
“I know, dude. It’s okay. You gotta hold it together.” Kyle puts a protective hand on Stan’s arm, in hopes of grounding him. “Don’t think about it. Okay?”  
“Okay.” Stan says, hardly sounding okay. “I’m okay.”  
“You’re okay.”  
“Guys, hate to interrupt the Fag-Fest, but we have a situation.” Cartman mocks from behind the counter. Kyle turns to glare at him, and his attention is caught away from the impending rage.  
Almost as if it’s a trophy, Cartman holds up a well-worn green collared shirt, and a red apron splattered with both blood and coffee stains. The other four boys halt in worry.  
“Oh, dude.” Kenny grimaces. “I think they got him.”  
“Oh my God.” Stan feels his knees falling out from under him, and Kyle rushes to keep him from hitting the floor.  
“Dude, hey. It’s alright.”  
“I’m. Oh my God.”  
“Stan, keep your eyes on me. It’s okay.”  
“Hello?! Somebody help me!”  
Their attention is drawn immediately from Stan’s weak stomach to the storage closet door, on the far wall. Something pounds on it again, sounding like a closed fist.  
“Is there someone out there?? Please!”  
“Don’t.” Kenny stops Butters from moving in on the door.  
“Why not? It could be-”  
“We don’t know what it could be.”  
“Hello?? Anybody?!”  
They exchange worried looks, until finally, Cartman steps in toward the door. He holds his shotgun, cocked and loaded, in front of him. Reaching for the handle, he gives a last look around the room.  
The door is tugged open. Cartman points his shotgun at the doorway, eliciting a panicked shriek from within.  
“A-Ah! Don’t shoot!” Tweek stays put where he is, hands flying up in surrender. He’s shirtless, coated in blood, and quivering.  
“Oh- Tweek! God damn it, we thought you were a zombie!” Cartman lowers his gun, begrudgingly. Kenny and Butters rush forward to help him out of the storage room.  
“What the hell happened in here, dude?” Kenny asks, pulling back when Tweek shoves his hands away.  
“What do you THINK happened?!” He cries, tugging away from Butters. “I was attacked! It was crazy!”  
“Is that where your shirt went, or were you trying to get fresh with one of the-” Cartman is slapped across the face, Tweek’s shirt yanked from his hand. “Ow, hey!”  
“That’s disgusting, why would you even say that?” Tweek glares, slipping his shirt back on. He stomps away from the counter, over to the door.  
“Geez, someone’s grumpy this morning.” Kyle remarks, helping Stan up off the ground.  
“I didn’t get a chance to make myself any c-coffee this morning, before all this shit set in,” Tweek explains, stepping over a few battered corpses. “They had me by the back of my shirt, I had to take it off i-if I wanted to escape. I’ve been in the damn st-storage room for two hours.”  
“Everyone else is hiding out in the community center. We can take you back there once we find Token.” Kenny nods, helping Kyle with supporting Stan. He’s a bit wobbly on his feet, and keeps his eyes directed toward the top of the door.  
“Alright, no time to waste. Get Captain Pussy out the door and let’s go.” Cartman pushes past Butters, steps over most of the carnage and out the door. Kyle sends him a venomous glare on his way out.  
“Have you guys f-found anyone else? Besides me?” Tweek asks, once they’re all out of the store. Kenny and Cartman exchange a strange look.  
“They found me!” Butters chirps from behind Kenny. “I was in a real pickle up there, too.”  
“And we found Craig and Clyde, I guess…” Kenny says, cautiously.  
“Oh. A-are they back with everyone else?”  
“Um. No. Not really?”  
“Craig shot himself, then he turned and bit Clyde. It was this whole thing.” Cartman waves his hand dismissively. “You had to have been there.”  
“Oh, Jesus!”  
“Yeah, it was pretty crazy.”  
“That’s not how it happened, Fatass!” Kyle counters, stepping away from Stan.  
“That’s sort of how it happened, dude.” Kenny says.  
“Not really! Craig was bitten, so you’re the one who told him to shoot himself!” Kyle prods Cartman’s fleshy chest with a pointed finger. “And when he came back, Clyde wouldn’t let you shoot him again!”  
“Yeah, and then Clyde was bitten!” Cartman shrugs. “That’s how it happened, that’s what I said.”  
“You left out the part with the assisted suicide.” Stan gives him a look.  
“Nuh uh! If Craig told me to shoot him, and I did, THEN it would be assisted suicide.” Cartman crosses his arms. “This was more like encouraged suicide.”  
“Wow.” Kyle shakes his head. “And that doesn’t even bother you?”  
“Not really. If he didn’t bite Clyde, it would have been one of us.”  
“You’re unbelievable, Fatass!”  
“YOU’RE unbelievable, Jew!”  
“Shut up!” Tweek cries, throwing his fists downward. “Why are you people always like this?! You’re tearing this family apart!!”  
Cartman and Kyle turn to give him suspicious eyebrows. Kenny, Butters, and Stan stare in a similar fashion. Tweek stands, catching his breath, gaze sweeping back over his supposed audience.  
“Okay, so. Let’s keep moving?” Kenny suggests. Kyle and Cartman exchange one last heated look before following after the group.


	6. Mmm Whatcha Say

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning theres a whole lot of violence and crazy sad stuff like shit basically hits the fan here   
> im also very sorry again

It only takes a few minutes to walk from Tweek Bros. to Token’s neighborhood, but in those few minutes, they pass plenty of troubling obstacles. The City Sushi restaurant has met the same fate as the coffee shop, but from the looks of things, the boys hadn’t gotten there fast enough to save Mr. Kim. They’re able to sneak by what’s left of the horde, Kenny slapping a hand over Cartman’s mouth before he insists on going back and shooting up the place.   
The mall parking lot seems to be relatively empty, and thankfully, they don’t meet any other undead neighbors on their way to Token’s. The front gate is closed, but the way behind the guard stand is open. Aformentioned guard, a hefty man with a goatee, stands dead at his post with the upper back half of his head missing. Kyle is able to cover Stan’s eyes as they pass the grisly scene, in hopes of keeping his weak stomach in check.

“You guys!” A voice calls from somewhere above the boys as they enter the front driveway.   
“Token? Is that you?” Cartman shouts back. “Did they get you? Have you moved up to the beyond??”  
“What?”  
“Quick, tell me if Black Heaven is better than White Heaven! Or, wait, are they the same Heaven? ‘Cause that’s-” Cartman is slapped in the arm again, recieving a warning look from Kyle.  
“First of all, shut the hell up. Second, Token isn’t dead. He’s just on the roof.” Kyle points upward to the top of the house, where Token is perched up above the garage. He’s giving Cartman a puzzled look, but at the same time, doesn’t look very surprised.  
“Dude, what are you doing up there?” Stan asks.  
“Hiding out from all the zombies!” Token says. “My parents are on vacation in Cabo, and hiding out on the roof just sounded like the most logical idea.”  
“That does actually make sense.” Kyle points out. “If they get into the house, they have no way onto the roof. And as long as he has a viable shelter and food up there, he should be fine.”  
“Yeah, I had a tent I was gonna set up. I knew everyone would go crazy and hide out in the rec center, so I figured I’d last longer on my own.”   
“Oh, man. We actually came by to take you back to the rec center.” Kenny laughs. “We found Tweek already, if you wanna come with.”  
Tweek waves passively from behind the group, and Token waves back. He seems to stop and consider a few things, before peeking back over the side of the garage.  
“Is everyone else back at the rec center? Craig and Jimmy, all them?” He asks, directed at the other five boys. They make the same cautious face they gave to Tweek.  
“No, because of these assholes!” Tweek calls back.   
“We’re not assholes!” Stan looks back, defensively. “It was Cartman’s fault! He’s the asshole.”  
“Ey!” He snaps. “Craig was like, already dead! It was only a matter of time!”  
“God, I am so done with this.” Kyle holds his head in his hands, as if he’s having a migraine. Which, at this point, is entirely possible.   
“Wait, who’s dead?” Token asks from the roof, sounding a bit more than concerned.  
“Clyde and Craig.” Stan says. “Sorry, dude.”  
“Oh, wow.” Token sighs, and his head disappears from over the side of the roof. The boys look back to each other for a second, until Token drops a well-constructed wooden ladder down from the side of the house. He climbs down, shouldering a large backpack. “If everyone’s hiding out at the center, I might as well go too. I’m sure people are worried.”  
“A-are you sure?” Tweek pushes forward.   
“Yeah, that’d be best.”  
“Alright, onward!” Cartman points his shotgun upward, signalling the group to move forward. There’s a simultaneous eye-roll from most of them, but nevertheless, they follow. Tweek keeps a hand steady on Token’s shoulder.   
“Man, Craig’s gonna be pissed,” Token laughs, derisively. Stan and Kyle turn around as they walk, giving him a very strange look. “He wanted me to be there to play that 'Mm Whatcha Say’ song at his funeral.”  
“That’s right!” Tweek smiles. “I think Clyde w-wanted the same thing. Something about them being like, brothers or whatever.”  
Stan turns back around, holding back a grin. "That sounds like Craig and Clyde, alright.”  
“Well,” Cartman tilts his head, drawing out the syllables. “There IS a chance they aren’t technically dead, yet.”  
“What?” Tweek and Token lean forward, puzzled.  
“Oh my God. That’s right.” Kyle says. “We just fucking ran, we never shot them. They might still be out there!”  
“Should we, like. Look for them?” Stan asks, looking back toward Kyle. He bumps into Kenny, who’s stopped dead in his tracks.  
“We don’t have to.” Kenny breathes, low, pointing forward. The boys redirect their gazes to where Kenny’s sturdy finger is positioned, and Tweek screams a little bit. 

Much like before, they meet across an empty road. This time, however, Craig’s bony figure is trailed by Clyde, lumbering and clumsy behind him. Craig’s gory headwound is still visible, blood dried and flaking against the side of his bony cheek. Clyde isn’t looking very good either, a large portion of the side of his neck and shoulder having been torn off. The evidence is streaked across Craig’s mouth, which curls into an unnerving snarl as his wide eyes lock onto a new target. Cartman immediately cocks his shotgun, and Kenny raises his bat.   
“God, it’s like they’re following us!” Stan cries, as Kyle steps in with his own bat.   
“Holy shit,” Token gasps, stepping back into his front yard with Tweek. “They’re even beside each other as zombies.”  
“It’s ridiculous.” Tweek says.  
“Nobody has any objections this time?” Cartman looks back to the other boys. They shake their heads, eyes focused on the impending threat. “No? Great. Let’s do what we came here to do.” His shotgun is aimed directly at Craig, the trigger pulled just a fraction too late. Craig limps down on his bitten leg, the blast just narrowly missing his forehead as it dips below.  
“How the hell did you miss?!” Kyle screeches, as Cartman cocks his gun again.  
“Get off my ass, Jew!”   
“That’s asking a lot, considering it’s so big!!”   
“Guys!” Kenny shouts, taking a swing at Clyde. The nails of Kenny’s bat stick deep into Clyde’s thick torso, but don’t seem to deter him. Kenny tries, frantically, to dislodge his bat while Clyde gains ground on him.   
Stan is distracted with Cartman and Kyle’s bickering, trying to keep Cartman’s shotgun away from Kyle’s head, and doesn’t notice Kenny being grabbed by one of Craig’s spidery hands. They converge, landing simultaneous bites while Kenny screams, to no avail.   
By the time the other boys draw their attention away from the argument, it’s too late.   
Clyde and Craig have caught their prey, tackling him down to the pavement. Kenny is consumed by enough horrendous bites to go down fast, until Craig takes one solid chomp from the front of his throat. They’re all sprayed with blood as he pulls back, tearing flesh. 

“Oh my God…” Kyle murmurs, a hand to his bloodied face. “They. They killed Kenny!”  
“You bastards!” Stan wretches, collapsing and dry heaving on the sidewalk. Token rushes forward to help, holding his hair back, while Kyle and Cartman leap into action. Butters stands back a good five feet, mortified.   
Kyle dives in with his bat, swinging wildly at Craig. He misses once, and finally lands a solid hit into Craig’s side. His arm is beaten back, nails sticking deep into the skin, while he comes at Kyle with the other arm and a set of teeth. Kyle sticks a foot up in an attempt to kick him off, hitting square in the middle of his stomach. Craig is only stopped for a good second, before his weight and Kyle’s imbalance send them both tumbling down in a pile on the road.   
Cartman fires multiple sporadic shots at Clyde, all either hitting the road or the fence. While he struggles to reload, Clyde comes in close, just barely nipping at Cartman’s forearm. He makes a disgusted noise, whacking Clyde with the butt of his shotgun, running a few feet away to reload.   
Tweek and Token try to help Stan calm down, while he breathes hard on the ground. Butters still hasn’t stopped staring, wide-eyed, at Kenny’s body.   
Kyle fights hard to kick Craig off of him before he’s able to land a bite, and manages to scramble up from the ground just in time for Craig to grab his ankle. The grip is almost inhumanly strong, and Kyle drops his bat as he panics. 

In an instant, Cartman finds himself on the ground, shotgun out of his hands. He hears the tell-tale CHK-CHUK behind him, and cowers down with his arms over his head.  
“RUN! THEY KNOW HOW TO USE FIREARMS!!” He screams, effectively silenced by a gunshot. And then, another.   
After a few seconds, Cartman opens his eyes. He sits up. He hadn’t been hit.   
Turning around, he sees Butters cock the shotgun again. Clyde’s body falls, heavy, against the road, a bloodied stump remaining where his head had once been. The same went for Craig, whos bony remains lay limp on the ground next to Kyle. Both Kyle and Cartman sat for only a second to assess the damage, before getting to their feet and staring at Butters.  
“Dude…” Kyle says. Butters drops the gun in his hands, watching it clatter to the ground, eyes cast downward to the bodies in front of him.  
“I’ve been waitin’ to do that since the fourth grade.” He mutters, and gives Craig’s body a swift kick to the stomach.   
Butters steps back into the group, watching Token and Tweek get Stan up to his feet. Kyle and Cartman give each other strange looks, but ultimately, back up onto the sidewalk. 

The six boys observe their peers, silent, scared. Clyde, a vibrant boy who loved his friends, reduced to a limp pile of flesh. Craig, a sarcastic, apathetic kid with the best advice, lay headless on the concrete. Kenny, determined to raise his future kids better than his own parents, fallen apart and bitten through, shoved into the dirt. The sun sets the sky a deep orange as it continues to fall, houses silhouetted in the distance. Crows squawk in the trees, while the boys stare down at their handiwork.   
“Mmmm, whatcha say…” Token sings. “Oh, that you only meant well… Well of course you did…”  
“Mmm, whatcha say,” Tweek warbles. “Oh, well it’s a-all for the best…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not sure if ill post much more of this au after this? but then again you never know


End file.
